Gracie Hale, the youngest Hale
child, just wanted to finish her
sophomore year in peace. But
that all changes when Scott
McCall becomes a werewolf.
Disclaimer: Be aware of mature
language and violence.
( 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧: 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯𝘦...
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˗ˏˋ⋆ H E A V E N L Y ⋆ˎˊ˗ ↳ 𝒙𝒙𝒗𝒊𝒊. 𝒊 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝘵𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘭𝘧, 𝘴𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘸𝘰
(𝔉𝔲𝔯𝔶)
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WITHINSECONDS, SCOTT WAS ON THE PHONE, ASKING HIS MOM ABOUT her run-in with Matt.
"Scott, you know how many people I deal with in a day?" Melissa asked incredulously, her voice blaring through the speaker on his phone.
"This one's sixteen, he's got dark hair, looks like a normal teenage—–"
"––Yeah, he looks evil," Stiles enthusiastically cut Scott off.
Gracie grabbed his shoulders, pulling him away from the phone. She ignored the accusing look he had given her and pressed a finger to her lips in a signal to be quiet.
"Scott, I already talked to the police about this," his mother told them.
"Mom, I'm gonna take a picture and send it to you," Scott quickly took a picture of Matt in the yearbook and sent it to his mom. "Did you get it?"
"Yeah."
"Do you recognize him?" Scott asked. "Do you remember him?"
"Yeah, I did," Melissa confirmed. "I mean, I remember I stopped him because he was tracking mud in the hall...Scott, what's going on?"
"It's-It's nothing, Mom," Scott assured her while Stiles, Noah, and Gracie exchanged looks. "I'll explain later. I gotta go."
He quickly ended the call and shoved his phone in his pocket. Noah hurriedly grabbed one of the files in the pile next to him. "We've got shoe prints alongside the tire tracks at the trailer site."
"And if they match, that puts Matt at the scene of three murders," Stiles continued thoughtfully. "The trailer, the hospital, and the rave."
"Actually, four," Noah corrected him. "A credit card receipt for an oil change was signed by Matt at the garage where the mechanic was killed."
"When?"
"A couple hours before you got there," Noah checked the file for confirmation.
Stiles shook excitedly and Gracie couldn't help but smile at him. This was his thing —full blown detective work that really impressed the socks off of her.
"All right, Dad," he said quickly. "If one's an incident, two's a coincidence, and three's a pattern, what's four?"
Noah slammed the case file shut. "Four's enough for a warrant."
